


Fly Away

by BookWerm



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hurt Lucifer, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 10:24:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16116464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookWerm/pseuds/BookWerm
Summary: I just felt that this would fill in a plothole, since it's been shown earlier in the series that being able to fly or not isn't connected to how much grace you have, and when Lucifer came back to the main universe he felt where his wings are, couldn't do much more than flash his eyes, and was only shown flying a few feet in the bar.So essentially this is just a torture fic, plain and simple. Not really a plot, but there could be one if you really wanted there to be.Apocalypse World! MIchael tortures our Lucifer.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize.  
> I wrote this when I was twelve, and I can't for the life of me figure out a way to fix it.

"Brother, c'mon."

The hope in his voice visibly drained with every word that he spoke.

 

"Besides your egotistical attitude, you are nothing like my brother was. Which makes it that much easier... to do... this." 

As the last word was spoken, Michael slammed the cage door door with the jutting nails, gouging the wounds that already went halfway through Lucifer's body just a little deeper.

The screams that ensued were of pure agony, decibels louder than any sound a human could make.  His voice cracked and rasped while his limbs flexed and went rigid.

His back arched with an audible snapping sound.

 

Eventually he collapsed, leaning into the offending spikes, sucking up air in big rutting gasps as if his lungs were gone.

As if only he just sucked in enough air, the pain would go away. 

 

"Spread your wings."

"Can't we just talk about this?" Lucifer said weakly. " I'm sure we could come to some agreeme-"  He was interrupted by his own scream as the nails twisted in place at the turn of Michael's hand. 

"Spread your wings, Lucifer."

Although his head began to hang lower, Lucifer did nothing except stare defiantly into Michael's eyes.

"Well," MIchael began, as he reached into the sack beside him and pulled out several angel blades. "We're both archangels, although you're a poor excuse for one. And I happen to know my weaknesses." 

He placed one of the blades through the bars against the taut skin of Lucifer's arm and stabbed at an angle with so much force that it completely immersed itself inside.

Ignoring Lucifer's shrieks of pain, he stabbed again and again, each time with new blades, until there were two in his back and one in both arms.  When the last one was in, there was a bright light, what seemed like a kneejerk reaction; the shadows of his

wings spread on the wall. 

Michael stared intently at what looked like a fixed point in the air just below and in front of the shadow; he could see the wings in all their glory. He got out his rare, prized weapon.

There were only ever four in existence. 

His archangel blade.

He ran his finger down it, drawing blood.

 

"The Lucifer of this world once tried this on me. It didn't work out too well for him, you know that. But there's no escape for you." 

 

Lucifer finally seemed to realize what he was getting into here, because dread and terror filled his eyes as the last item came out of the bag.

An ancient clay pitcher covered in symbols.

Michael poured some of the oil over the large blade, not wasting a drop. He snapped his fingers, and it roared to life with flames that danced and waved.

"You are going to feel every ounce of this pain, every second of it. Escape won't even be a possibility when I'm done with you."

Michael reached out, moving toward the wings with the flaming knife. Lucifer tried to snap his wings back, flex them _away_ , but every movement sent red hot pain through his spine, his arms, his chest. He couldn't do it.

Michael, holding the wings still, began to carve the tips off.

 

...

 

Hours later,( Michael having taken the longest route possible) bloody angelic feathers lay discarded in a heap on the floor. 

Lucifer was slumped over, eyes closed, several tears on his face. His wings were torn into bloody shreds of flesh. He would never be able to fly more than a few feet at once, not for a long time.

He had never known an angel to be wounded in battle who survived. If your wings were somehow damaged, you wouldn't survive the next few seconds, let alone a lifetime. This might never heal all the way.

 

"Wait till you see what's happening tomorrow." Michael said with the grin of a crocodile as he left Lucifer there, dangling.


	2. The Devil HImself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is now a thing, I guess? 
> 
> Lucifer escapes. OR DOES HE?  
> (I mean, he has to not escape for it to be canon compliant, so what do you think I'm going to do?)

Come on, I'm the devil himself. Of course I can do this.

With a mighty heave, he jerked his broken wing back through the bars, barely stifling his scream of agony. Panting, he plucked a few feathers off his other bleeding wing, though few were left, and squeezed it through on that side as well. His nerves burned and his teeth clenched as the tender skin scraped and rutted against every nail on the way in. Lucifer choked back the pain, knowing that if he made one sound the guarding angels would come rushing in.

Then his face split into a grin. And he uncurled the tips of his mangled shred of a wing to reveal the angel blade he had just got off the floor. This Michael was smart enough to not leave any of the blades in him, for fear of him using them, but was somehow stupid enough to leave one lying around. Weird, but I'll take what comes. No use looking a gift horse in the mouth.

He stared at the blade for a moment, hoping that now that it was in the cage with him, he'd be able to use telekinesis or stared for a good minute before sighing. No luck. So he used his foot and wingtip to nudge the blade right into the hinge of the cage and slam it in. For a moment, nothing happened. Then cracks appeared, followed by a huge screeching sound, the worst case of fingernails on chalkboard ever. And then there was the pain. He had fallen down on top of the cage door with spikes covering it onto the cement below. The horizon was tinged with red and every twitch sent a throb of pain throughout his entire body. But he pushed himself up onto his knees anyway.

The angels that were too much like robotic pests were probably already informing Insane Michael of the sounds from in here. Lucifer had to get out, now before he came back. Flying was definitely not an option. The adrenaline that had helped him get out of the cage was long gone by now, and he didn't have a death wish.

As he crept through the hallways, he couldn't help but notice that there was not a single angel in his path, no sirens, nothing. The only thing even vaguely hinting toward the fact that anyone was ever here was the faint tingle of an archangel's power. Something was definitely wrong, but there was nothing he could do about it, except be careful.

He was stepping into the first ray of (sort of) sunlight in what felt like forever, when he almost jumped out of his skin.

"Heeey, Luci." A familiar voice echoed from the dead looking bushes to his right.

After all that effort it took to escape, he was going to be caught again, brought back to that THING that barely deserved to be called a cage. He started to run, cursing his broken body, his wings that were searing with pain on every step. It seemed sort of ironic now that he had taunted Mary about her 'weak little lungs and weak little legs' just yesterday.

The shadowy figure that stood in his path forced him to jolt to a stop.

"I see you broke your wings, brother. Fall too far?"

"Gabriel?" Two archangels in one day. This couldn't be good.

"That's me, though I'm pretty sure I'm not the me you're used to. I assume you've met Michael? He's pretty keen on torture these days." As the foreign archangel finished speaking, a smile lit up his face that never reached his eyes. His once beautiful eyes that had so many scars layered across them that it was hard to tell what they once were. He stared intensely at Lucifer in such a way that he could've quite tell if he could see him. He decided to ignore it for now, act like nothing was wrong.

"What do you want? You gonna try to mess me up too?"

"Me? Never! Heard you were around again, but I can see you're not the same. I was going to give you your weapon back, but you understand, it's not really you I'm talking about."

"What is it? The angel tablet? Michael's lance?"

"You know what, I'm feeling generous today. So prove to me you're as good as the old Lucifer, and I'll give it to you. No strings attached."

"Are you serious? Could your me really have done something impressive with his wings flayed like a frog in biology, and a serious angel blade ritual wound? How about the very fact that I escaped from Michael? Huh?"

A serious, thoughtful expression graced Gabriel's features.

"You're not like how I thought you were. You're not too terrible, though, so I won't stop you if you try to get back to your world. In fact, I wish you luck. You just wouldn't know what to do with this even if I gave it to you."

Lucifer simultaneously seethed with rage and pain on the inside while trying to appear cool and confident. It may or may not have been working.

"Sure I would." On hearing this, Gabriel smirked, and glowed with this knowing look that said, very plainly, 'oh, you think so, do you?'.

" I know for a fact that you wouldn't. You haven't even noticed the most important thing about our meeting."

He thought back to his escape, and the empty corridors, the vague sense of archangel power when none were to be seen.

"I mean, I knew you were weak, but I never thought you would be so low as ro not even notice what's happening, or rather what's not happening, around you. If you had just thought about it, you could have broken out of this at any time, assuming you're anything like the Lucifer I knew."

Lucifer's mind raced ahead, becoming more and more dejected the more he thought.

"How much of it was a dream?"

"It's been an illusion ever since the angel blade was left alone in the room with you."

" Why didn't you just start it with me out here, if all you wanted to do was talk?"

" I guess I wanted to see what you would do, what you were made of, if you could overcome this or if you would sense the illusion. Obviously not. I still hope you make it home, though."

Gabriel began to walk away, jacket rippling even though there was no wind.

"Wait. Was the weapon real?"

A word floated in the imaginary breeze that he had to strain to hear, and it seemed to be 'yes'.

The last remnants of familiarity, of of love, of hope, of Gabe, all faded away in a quick blast of sharp reality that brought him back to the cage, back to the pain and loneliness, and back to the shame.

Until a light spills in, and he knows it really is a new day, because there are Michael and his soldiers, standing in the open doorway.


End file.
